Speechless
by twitchytwain
Summary: Two political speechwriters fall in love before they find out they are working for candidates on opposite sides.
1. Chapter 1

Bonnie braved the sidewalks swarming with people and narrowed her hazel eyes trying to make out shapes through the snow. Light flurries were starting to fall around the city, gathering on the people's shoulders, drifting and settling on the sidewalk. She chugged cold crisp air as the pulsating wave of a hostile crowd claimed her and held her hostage. She vanished inside a sea of people before shoving and pushing her way through to the street congested with yellow cabs. Hurrying across the street, she was deaf to the cabbies blasting their horns and the trucks polluting the air with diesel fumes.

Fighting off a cloud of exhaust from a garbage truck, she caught a whiff of roasted nuts from a newsstand and stopped to root around her bag for a wallet. She purchased a New York Times and her eyes chanced upon a New York Post headline about the Governor's race. She groaned thinking about the oncoming elections. As a political speechwriter, she was in for a long and hard season as her boss was up for re-election. Alaric Saltzman was already planning his acceptance speech and the campaigns were just beginning to sprout around New York, talk about an overzealous ego. Bonnie peered up at a banner for another candidate as it flapped in the wind high above Wall Street. The truth was that with all her complaining and scowling, Bonnie loved being a political speechwriter. She thrived on the action, lived for the drama of dirty politics. She was a slave to her passion and would've traded her soul to become a White House speechwriter. It was a thankless anonymous job but she loved it. The hours were long and strenuous, the eye-creams becoming ridiculously expensive with each year but it was all worth it when the crowds roused to their feet in applause because of something she wrote.

Tucking her chin into the high collar of her cashmere coat, Bonnie ducked into her favourite Starbucks.

..

It must have been Tuesday, Damon thought. He always saw her on Tuesdays. She seemed to stalk him from the Starbucks on ninety nine Wall Street to the food truck serving spicy jerk chicken from Trinidad and Tobago. Damon thrust his shoulders above the suits of Wall Street's financiers and brokers to get a better look at her. He watched as she ordered her coffee black, no sugar and wondered why she even bothered to come to Starbucks.

He had never approached her, never uttered a word to her beyond a grunt as they both exited the door at the same time. What would he have said? Hi, my name is Damon Desai and I'm a political speechwriter. Logically, it would have sufficed as a line, this was Manhattan after all but she didn't seem like the type of girl who got reeled by tired lines. Naturally being a Democrat, Damon had let her choose how it went at the exit and she being a feminist had elected to let him go first. Always the same tango at the door for both of them without so much as eye-contact.

Someone shoved past him carrying a vanilla latte, undoubtedly a Republican, Damon thought shaking his head. They were the only ones with no imagination. He probably subjected his poor girlfriend to a five minute missionary position every Tuesday and the lattes gave him a boost. Damon chuckled at his crazy imaginings and wished he could whip out the same enthusiasm for Nik's campaign. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his friend, heck Klaus Mikaelson was a former football hero, his father a war veteran and he himself had done a stint in Iraq. The Republicans would have killed to have him on their team. Truth was the only thing that hurt Nik's campaign was Alaric Saltzman; the man was as iconic as the charging bull on Wall Street. He spoke to the simple Americans using a simple language and voters liked him. That was politics for you, it wasn't poetry. It was fiction but it certainly wasn't Hemmingway.

"One caramel apple spice" Damon ordered then waited for the barista to come back with his much needed cup. His eyes raced, seeking through the suits inside the brightly lit coffee shop searching for the statuesque brunette in the expensive coat. Several minutes later, the barista handed him the cup topped with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Biting back a scowl at the lack of pecan nuts, he staggered toward the door and dragged his hand down his tired face. Damon dashed toward the door as she was exiting just in time for their usual speechless dance but today would be different as fate lent him a hand. In a flash, she was crashing into him. Her knees buckled as she collided into his chest. Instinctively, Damon's arms draped around her waist and he smelled her hair, his nose buried deep in its dark pin-straight strands. Damon smelled her faint oriental perfume as her hair tickled his face and his fingers crawled down her cream coat like daring spiders. Her scent was thrilling, an escape from the stench of burning cigarettes, brewed coffee and weekend old whisky sweat from the young financiers that were passing them on the street.

"Careful, "Damon simpered, his breath hovering in front of him in the cold "My face is not insured" he said trying to sound charming but regretted it soon after he had uttered the sentence.

"Thank you" she said softly, barely audible in all the traffic noise, the drilling machines and the coffee orders pealing from inside the shop. The door slammed again as someone shoved past them.

"I'm Damon," he said with a smile that tried to be daring but somehow came out looking desperate.

"I'm Bonnie"

"That looks like it might stain, "Damon said handing her a napkin, his dark hair tossing in the quickening icy breeze.

"Shoot!" Bonnie cried snagging the napkin from his hand to wipe the blooming stain on her favourite coat. It had been her first luxurious purchase to celebrate her job as Alaric Saltzman's speechwriter, a Dior cashmere coat. It was three years old now but it still pulled off the clean polished look that would eventually propel her to the white house.

"Let me make it up to you" Damon smiled lazily and Bonnie was struck by the lewdness in his stark blue eyes, lascivious beneath the long lashes that fringed them. She had not had time to formulate a rebuttal before he quickly added, "I'm buying you this great lobster bisque, "he was smiling, head cocked to the side.

"There's a place around the corner" he continued, jerking his head and motioning to someplace behind him.

"I'm a vegetarian" Bonnie replied shaking her head and tossing the stained napkin inside her crocodile bag.

"Of course you are" he said, his gaze darting to her bag "did I mention their superb garden vegetable soup which comes with Lindt chocolate to complement the soup?" he quickly said suddenly coming across like a waitron in his attempts to seduce her. Bonnie opened her mouth to say something, to save him from himself but he halted her struggles for speech.

"But wait, you don't have much of a sweet tooth since you order your coffee black, no sugar" he said rapidly as a wind thrown plastic bag flew past them.

"Do I know you?" she asked, eyebrow arched as she studied him carefully.

"I should hope so; we've been having this _Last Tango Dance_ thing by the door of this Starbucks for months now"

"Hadn't noticed, "She said pushing past him "guess you're not that noticeable"

"Hey, stop playing coy" Damon called running after her "you noticed me the moment you crashed into me, it took you precisely three seconds to form an attraction"

"I formed an attraction?" she scoffed "is there a busload of crazies touring Manhattan today?"

"Stop with hate crimes, will you?" he simpered "you like me and it took your eyes three seconds to realize that, dilated pupils and all"

She narrowed her eyes at him, casting them over his dark curls as dim sunlight and a crisp breeze pursued them. She could tell he was the type that owned too many hair products which roughly meant he never spent nights at a partner's apartment. How was he going to haul all those products around Manhattan and still look good the morning after? Bonnie could see it now, long tedious nights spent at his place watching the Yankees on his big screen and fighting over toasted bagels every morning.

"I know women" Damon said, combing a hand through his hair.

"You know I would expect that line from him maybe, "Bonnie snapped pointing to a random man in a slim-fit Armani suit and a grey tweed coat "not you, you're not the type"

"And what type is he?"

"The type who wears power suits and can get away with ridiculous statements like _I know women_ "

"And what type am I?"

"The type that doesn't have a tailor "she said sizing him up from his navy trench coat, charcoal t-shirt to his tattered sneakers covered with sleet "you should invest in one" she added, her eyes gliding over the animal print design on his sneakers.

"I'm twenty eight"

"And yet you dress like you're thirteen"

"What are you, sixty going on twenty seven?"

"That's my cue" Bonnie said raising her right arm to hail down a cab from the scores of yellow taxis driving down the financial district" Good-bye Danny"

"What, you can dish it but you can't take it?" Damon yelled with a chuckle.

"It's Damon," he called squaring his shoulders and thrusting out his chest trying to look respectable "Damon Salvatore"

Bonnie shook her head as she climbed into the yellow taxi, carefully smoothing down the hem of her coat.

"Forty three and Sixtieth" she told the cab driver as her mobile phone came alive in her handbag. She plucked it out, vibrating and whirling around in her hand before she snapped it open.

"Do you think people need sex to survive?"

"Katherine, Good morning"

"I've been lying naked in bed all morning-"

"Naturally"

"And I've been wondering if I really need sex to survive"

"I think you mean oxygen"

"No, I mean sex, passion" Katherine said "Do you think I'll die a slow miserable death if I just stop having it"

"I don't know, I'm still here…still breathing"

"Yes but you're not living Bonnie, you're just breathing"

"Same thing, listen can we put the sex talk on the back burner" she said catching the cabbie's faint smile in the review mirror. Bonnie grinned back at him, rubbing the nape of her stiff neck.

"How's your article on the governor coming along?" she asked as her eyes wandered along the driver's littered dashboard. They darted past a naked Buddha bobbing its head, a string of fat beads handing from the review mirror and settled on the burning incense that pricked her eyes.

"Oh, it _came_ alright, "Kat chuckled huskily "it practically wrote itself" she said breathlessly.

Bonnie paused for a minute, her mind reeling over Katherine's statement, Katherine naked in bed at nine o'clock on a Tuesday morning and not at her chaotic office at the New York Times.

"Katherine, "she began slowly "what-did-you-do?"

"I might have slept with Enzo." she said over the receiver and Bonnie shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was Katherine's second escapade with a politician after her July affair with Klaus Mikaelson. Granted, Enzo was not a politician but he was still the governor's campaign manager.

"Sleeping with two politicians doesn't make you Marilyn Monroe, you know"

"Technically, Enzo is not a politician, he's an attorney. I'm not as ambitious as Marilyn"

"Kat, I really don't care," she puffed as she locked back a strand of hair behind her ear, "I need you to get dressed and put your journalist's hat back on then get back to work!-"

"Hey, what are you-?"Bonnie spun around as the cab door swung open and Damon darted inside, slouching down into the seat right next to her.

..

"I'm catching a cab" he said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"This is my cab" she huffed glaring at him.

"We'll share, you don't have problem with that right Mr Sanjir?" Damon said straining his eyes to read the cabbie's name off his license on the dashboard. The cabbie shook his head with a broad grin.

"See, this is what I like about this city," Damon grinned leaning back into the seat "you come here, make money and live your dream, _New York, New York_ "

"Where are you from Mr Sanjir?"

"India"

"Ah, don't you just love our city's open border policy"

"We don't have an open border policy, our governor is a Republican"

"Did you hear that Mr Sanjir?"

"Republicans loath the idea of immigrants breaking through their precious borders and yet here you are, an immigrant in the great city of New York and you have a Republican sticker on your bumper" Damon smiled broadly, "Is this false advertising Mr Sanjir, are you playing a shrewd game of politics or are you really a Republican?"

"You don't have to answer that Sir" Bonnie said, nudging Damon with her elbow.

"Right, he doesn't it have to answer" Damon laughed "Mr Sanjir you can plead the Fifth Amendment on everything"

"Okay, Mr Sanjir please stop the cab. I'm getting off here"

"Why do you keep running away from me?" Damon called after her.

"I don't like you" she paused, standing at the door "I don't like the way you dress, I don't like the things you say and your hair bother's me"

"Oh come on, I still owe you that soup" Damon yelled as she slammed the door in his face. Throwing his head back against the car seat, Damon sighed instantly aware of the strong scent of spicy cinnamon in the taxi. _How had he managed to mess that up?_

"What are you looking at?" he said, watching the driver through heavy lidded eyes.

"Do you know that lady?" the cabbie asked, evidently amused by what had transpired.

"Is this a trick question? No I don't know that _lady_ "

"But you'd like to?" Mr Sanjir winked, his smile stretching even wider across his weatherworn face. Damon merely waved him off with his hand as he turned his attention back toward the congested streets.

"I pick her up at that spot almost every day. She has a routine and it never changes." The cabbie informed him.

With a snort, Damon rolled his blue eyes "So she's boring. I'm shocked."

"She works for the governor of New York" the driver offered and Damon bolted back up, his heart racing.

"Just my luck" he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

Bonnie ducked through the revolving doors of her office building, swiped her access card and pushed past the crowds milling around the marble floored lobby and into the recess of a cramped elevator. She shifted uncomfortably, her Manolo Blahniks pinching her toes as she moved around the stifling heat of the elevator. She always hated the forced intimacy of elevators but she had learned to accept the lack of space in overly populated New York. Her mother still failed to understand why she had chosen to leave beautiful California with its perfect weather and Bonnie always insisted that she loved New York's sterile air and there was the culture. And then of course L.A had the earthquakes. The only natural disaster faced by New Yorkers was the deficit of single, educated straight men who weren't complete douchebags, but then again that was a problem for single women not the government.

The doors slid open with a somnolent ding and she squeezed her way past sharply dressed politicians who looked like financiers. She could hardly tell the difference anymore. Politicians were now employing the services of stylists with as much zeal as they had employing campaign managers. She waded through a maze of frosted glass cubicles with wooden desks and filing cabinets as she headed towards her own corner office with a street side view. It wasn't exactly plush and luxurious and the chair was third grade leather but the gold plate on the door still read Bonnie Bennett.

Delivery men with their arms full of flowers dotted the space as workers streamed in with their bags and briefcases. Over the buzz of ringing telephones Bonnie observed cheerful greetings and wondered what was going on. She paused to smell a bouquet of roses at her assistant's desk and smiled at Ivy who was busy taking off her coat and hanging it on the back of her chair.

"These are beautiful. Don't tell me I forgot your birthday." Bonnie ran the tips of her fingers over the red petals.

"It's Valentine's day." Ivy laughed, plucked out a single rose from the bunch and handed it over to Bonnie.

"Oh and are these from a new admirer?"

Shaking her head, Ivy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear "No, these are from Jesse."

"The ad guy?"

"He's a graphic designer. We're sort of made it official"

"You're engaged?" Bonnie's eyebrows shot up.

"No but we are dating exclusively." Ivy explained, shaking her head with a chuckle.

"I'm so happy for you." Bonnie exclaimed. Ivy was excellent at her job; she was indispensable especially since she managed to get reservations at the French Laundry for Bonnie's parent's wedding anniversary last year.

"So I gather that you don't have any plans?" Ivy smiled at her sympathetically as she took her seat behind the desk.

"Nope. It'll just be me, alone, watching TV with a glass of wine." Bonnie shrugged and smiled wryly. Valentine 's Day was a bitter reminder that she was single. She took her leave from Ivy's desk and ventured into her office.

Her shoes sunk into the gray rug as she strode toward her black lacquered desk with mirrored drawers. The desk wasn't imposing but it was large enough. It was topped with an Apple computer, her telephone and purple orchids in a silver vase. She tossed her tan tote bag on a gray tufted chair and rested her butt at the corner of her desk. She glared at the stain on her coat, wet her thumb and scrubbed furiously before shrugging out of it in defeat. She clenched her jaw as her eyes dragged along the map of a stain. Her precious coat was practically ruined.

"You should put some baking soda on that"

Bonnie looked up to find Caroline, her research assistant peeking into her office. She was wearing her red Chanel sweater again, she'd been wearing it religiously since she read an article in Vanity Fair about red being a tremendous complement to blond hair and truth be told, she did look ravishing in red.

"I'll have Ivy take it to the dry-cleaners" Bonnie half shrugged examining the stain again then dropped the coat next to her bag.

"What happened, taxi wars?" Caroline asked walking toward the desk with a pile of research files.

Smoothing her hands down the fabric of her cream dress, Bonnie glimpsed up from her task and waved off Caroline's question "Don't ask, some idiot crashed into me"

"Ah, the romance of New York sidewalks" her research assistant chuckled and placed the files on the desk in front of Bonnie.

"Have you seen the latest polls?" she asked.

"Yeah" Bonnie said leafing through a pile of papers that had been sitting on a tray on her desk.

"Klaus Mikaelson is steadily climbing, guess that gym membership is paying off, not to mention his new look. Kudos to his campaign manager. "Caroline said crossing her arms across her chest.

"Are you trying to say that female voters base their votes on a candidate's looks?" Bonnie cocked a trimmed eyebrow at her friend.

"No, I'm saying I would vote for him because he's hot" Caroline said wink.

"If you were a Democrat" Bonnie stated still eyeballing the sprightly research assistant.

"If I were a Democrat" Caroline finally said rolling her blue eyes.

"Morning"

They both jerked up at the knock on the door where an unnaturally beaming Elena stood glowing with her six months pregnant form in a billowing pastel blouse.

"Morning Elena" they greeted simultaneously and watched as she laid down a tiny Tiffany box on Bonnie's desk.

"What's this?" Bonnie picked up the box and shook it. Her eyes darted between Caroline and Elena.

"A valentine gift" Elena said rolling up the sleeves of her Prada blouse.

Rounding the desk, to sit in her swivel chair, Bonnie grinned "You're handing out valentine gifts? I think hell just froze over"

"Ok, it was a gift from some staffer; I'm merely passing the buck" she admitted, smoothing back her chocolate brown hair.

"This staffer knows you're happily married right?" Bonnie chuckled looking up at her friend and colleague. Elena was Alaric' stepdaughter but she worked at the office as Alaric's assistant public relations manager. She didn't use the fact that she was the governor's daughter to get ahead and Bonnie admired her for that.

"Speaking of Valentines…" Caroline broke in with a wide grin.

"No" Bonnie dead-panned glaring at her.

"I haven't even said anything yet" Caroline whined, resting her buttocks on the corner of Bonnie's desk.

"You don't have to, we know you" Elena responded with a biting frown.

"Bonnie-"

"Don't take the bait Bonnie" Elena warned.

"Bonnie, there's this great guy that I know you're going to like"

"No" the brunette shook her head, tucking strands of hair behind both ears.

"Tristan de Martel. He's recently divorced and-"

"He's the youngest district attorney in New York, Republican with a penchant for hunting partridges in upstate New York." Bonnie said knowingly "I'm not interested, besides I have front row tickets to the Knicks this weekend"

..

"I am drinking from the cup of victory" Klaus bellowed twirling a crystal tumbler around in his hand.

"Victory?" Damon mused eyeing him as he tossed ice inside a hefty glass of scotch.

"Have you seen the polls my friend?" He glanced over his shoulder, picking up a decanter then topped the glass up to its brim before filling up another glass.

"You mean the popularity polls" Damon retorted, meeting Klaus's eyes as he took his first swig. With a satisfied sigh, Klaus walked to a small window looking out into a busy street before turning to face Damon again.

"Don't hate Salvatore; it doesn't look good on you" he chuckled handing his friend and speechwriter a fresh glass.

"Being popular with female voters doesn't carry much clout with the real polls" Damon replied declining the drink with a shake of his head.

"I know JFK was popular with women" Camille, Klaus's campaign manager called as she sauntered inside the tiny clustered office. Damon groaned, slapping a hand down his face. He was so tired of the Nik and JFK comparisons but he could forgive the faux paus if it won his friend the governorship.

"Would you just let me have this moment, I beat Alaric Saltzman, the original New Yorker in these polls" Klaus argued as he tossed more scotch down his throat.

"Good looks and idealism won't win against Saltzman, we need brass balls" Damon said.

"Said the inconsistent jerk-ass with commitment issues" Camille eyeballed him before snapping her head back toward the candidate "Nik, ideas are like manure, worthless unless you spread them around"

"Yes Nik, your ideas are precious manure" Damon called from his position by a small open window. In this position he had the perfect view of Camille's legs, legs that had been wrapped around him all of July. She'd stopped coming over to his apartment during October and Damon had blamed his faulty radiator.

"Klaus, you have a lunch meeting with a donor at three" she said padding across the screen of her small pink organizer.

"I thought that I was meeting an interest group"

"That's tomorrow" she replied, tossing back her chic blonde hair and biting her bottom lip.

..

"You know there should be a law against how good looking you are" Damon remarked as they left Klaus's tiny office. They zigzagged through a mess of blue cubicles stacked tightly against each other like domino chips. Their office space was shit but the energy of the young staff was infectious. They were all like ferrets in a cage high on too much coffee and Damon loved it.

"They should arrest you for being an asshole" Camille gave him a side-long glance.

"You wanna grab a drink tonight?" he asked.

"I have a date" she said fixing a campaign button on her lapel with Klaus's face printed on it.

"Really, does he have brass balls?" he taunted, gaze flitting to her chest.

"Bigger than yours, that's for sure" she cocked her head, eyeing him through her fluttering eyelashes. "We're actually driving up to Upstate New York for the Valentine weekend"

"The predictions of a snowstorm aren't deterring you?"

"All the better for snuggle time"'

"You're a cruel cruel woman Cami"

"Why couldn't we work things out?" Damon licked his lips, eyes focused on the rise and fall of her chest where the top two buttons were open.

"Cause I earn more money than you, "she chuckled glancing up at him "oh, and you're married to politics remember?"

"So, no date?"

"No date, big-shot"

"Your loss" he winked, smiling broadly.

..

Damon stared blearily at his laptop, the letters on the screen were beginning to blink and blur in front of him. He tore his eyes away from the screen to watch knots of people plod through the snow. He was bone tired working on his thirteenth draft of Klaus's speech for his address with the unions. Damon was attempting to craft that lofty moment, that great crescendo in Klaus's speech that would propel him to JF Kennedy's level-if that were even possible. He sighed and grinned to himself as he leaned back in his worn out swivel chair. His dad always said that politics was the art of the possible and Damon had enough heart and creativity to pull a rabbit out of a hat. He had pulled enough miracle papers when he was attending a community college to earn him an internship at the New York Post.

The soft tap on the corner of his cubicle yanked him from his thoughts.

"I got that _research_ you asked for" Matt said tapping a file against his hand. He lingered around the entry, eyes flickering pensively around the cubicle loaded with papers, magazine clippings, and newspaper cut-outs. The was not one single photograph or anything personal of Damon's expect for his framed journalism degree mounted on the felt covered wall.

"The Bonnie file?" Damon arched an eyebrow, hand reaching for the dossier.

"Yup, Bonnie Bennett. She's Alaric Saltzman's speechwriter" Matt said still clutching the black folder.

"I imagine if you hit it off with her we won't even need a budget for opposition research anymore"

"Matt, _really_?" Damon drawled snatching the file from Matt's hands.

"You're very transparent Damon"

"Thank you" Damon smiled flicking the corner of the file with his index finger.

"You know people are usually all about love today." Matt stated, planting his hands on his lean hips.

"What's happening today?" Damon asked, not bothering to look up from the file.

"It's Valentine's day." Matt smirked, picking up a miniature statue of liberty from Damon's desk.

"Okay."

"So what, no romantic urges or plans?" Matt continued to dig, playing with the statue in his hands.

With a shrug, Damon looked up from the file and replied "Nope besides I missed my window."

"What do you mean?"

"Women usually go out a lot the week before Valentine's Day hoping to meet someone they can spend Valentine 's Day with. They're generally more approachable because they don't want to be alone on that day." Damon explained, "If I go out on Valentine 's Day with the intention of getting laid…well then I'll just come off looking desperate. Therefore I've missed my window. I can't get laid unless it's someone I already know."

"You have no soul." Matt shook his head and looked at Damon dumbly.

"I'm a red blooded male with front row tickets to the Knicks" Damon grinned propping his legs on his wobbly desk and leaning back into his chair "life doesn't get any better than that"

"Great, whatever" Matt mumbled heading for the door "listen in case I think you're thinking what you're thinking, "he paused letting the perplexed look settle on Damon's face "espionage Damon, your game not mine. Anyway," Matt cleared his throat "The target frequencies a bar on 75 Wall Street every Wednesday"

"The target" Damon repeated spying his research assistant.

"Bonnie Bennett"

"Right, your words not mine"

"She frequents this bar on 75 Wall Street at the Andaz Hotel"

"Right, that yuppie hotel bar with all those scumbag stockbrokers"

"You got it" Matt grinned, slapping his hand lightly against the cubicle before existing. Damon groaned, fisting his hair then he began to flip through the file in his hands. He grinned at Matt's assumption that his interest in Bonnie was based solely on surveillance. As if this Bonnie could reveal crucial information about Alaric Saltzman's campaign in the heat of the moment. As if he, Damon Salvatore could play a spy.

He wondered how much of a talker Bonnie Bennett was and how much of a talker she was after several glasses of ridiculously expensive wine at the Andaz Hotel.

..

The taxi pulled up in front of a small, unassuming Vietnamese place next to a locksmith and a barbershop. Stepping out of the cab, Bonnie paid the driver and ran into the restaurant. She stood in a thinning line waiting for her turn and when she reached the front of the line and stood at the counter, her mouth was already watering. Photos of the dishes on sale were displayed above the register and delivery men hung nearby waiting for orders. Bonnie made her order, paid and found a booth to wait for her food while she sipped on a glass of house wine. She swallowed the wine and grimaced. It tasted like warm vinegar and she didn't bother finishing it.

The spot was small and boxy but they made spectacular food and that was the reason she frequented, that and the fact that she lived a few blocks from the restaurant. She looked around and watched a few couples holding hands as they waited for their orders under the dimly lit front house. When she finally collected her food, her stomach was growling.

Bonnie grabbed the takeout bag and dashed toward a cab, stepping into an icy puddle as she opened the door. Her shoes were soaked and she was freezing but she had a hot meal and a great bottle of wine waiting at home.

..

When she walked into her apartment, she kicked off her stilettos and tossed her bag on a gray velvet sofa close to the entrance then made a beeline to the kitchen.

Setting the takeout down on her speckled-black granite countertop, she checked inside her takeout bag and retrieved two throwaway chopsticks. Clearly the lady at the restaurant assumed that she would be dining with someone.

The joke was on her.

Bonnie grabbed one set and ripped off the paper wrapping the chopsticks then opened the Styrofoam container in front of her. A layer of grease covered the noodles and the aroma wafted around the kitchen making her mouth water. She smiled because this was her guilty pleasure. This was her secret single behaviour, an activity she could only truly engage in when she was alone.

She looked down at the grease stains lining the bottom of the bag and sniffed them before tossing the bag in the trash can. Retrieving a wine glass from the cabinet, she set it down on the counter and pulled out a bottle of red wine from her wine rack.

She pulled a drawer and fished out a corkscrew. Plunging the tool inside the cork, she twisted until it popped then filled her glass.

Depositing the contents of the Styrofoam container into a ceramic bowl, she threw away the container and broke apart the chopsticks. Lowering her head to the dish, she slurped up the noodles twisted around the utensils and made her way to her bedroom with the dish in one hand, her glass in the other and the bottle tucked under her arm.

If she met a man, formed a relationship and started cohabiting with him then she couldn't really fully enjoy her single secret behaviour then could she? Her last boyfriend was a French Diplomat who'd been too busy to really settle down and Bonnie had been more than happy with that arrangement. Jean-Marc had been typically dark, brooding and French with a love for wine and good food and a strong penchant for debate and belittling waitstaff.

It never lasted.

She could taste the peanut sauce and bits of shrimp as she moaned around a mouthful of noodles. This would definitely not be a meal she'd order on a date because slurping noodles was simply not sexy.

She pulled her dress over her head and shook out her hair then she unhooked her bra and grabbed her Harvard t-shirt from her drawer, slipping into it.

She slipped on her yoga pants and pulled back the covers, sliding beneath the blankets then drew her knees up. After shifting around the covers and making sure that she was adequately comfortable, she leaned her head against the pile of pillows she'd stacked against the headboard and grabbed the remote control, pointing it at the plasma TV mounted on the wall. The TV came to life and she searched through the channels until she landed on CNN. Bonnie glanced back at her nightstand stacked with a neat pile of books, a vase of tulips and a crystal lamp. She picked up her glass of wine and twirled the liquid inside; burying her nose in the glass as she watched the first lady address thousands of young girls on the importance of education. Stealing a glimpse at her laptop, she felt a twinge of guilt. She was supposed to be working on Alaric's speech.

Finally switching off the TV, she drained her glass of wine and began to type her first draft.

..

On Wednesday night the glare of neon lights impaled Damon's eyes as he stepped out on the curb to hail down a cab. Sticking his chin inside the collar of his coat, he lunge inside a taxi and leaned over to instruct the cabbie about his destination.

"Seventy Five, Wall Street" he said, already spying the meter. Sitting back into the pleather bench, he leaned his head against the head rest and heaved a sigh. He was exhausted, what he really needed was a nice cold beer and to pass out in front of the TV with a replay of the Knicks vs Lakers game. He had practically dosed off when the shudder of the cab jolted him up and blinking around owlishly, he realized that they were parked outside the Andaz hotel and the damn meter was still running. He paid the tab, hunched his shoulders against the onslaught of snowfall and dove inside the hotel.

The compartmentalized space swallowed him with its etched glass and floor to ceiling windows. Damon cleared his throat, trying to look inconspicuous as he scanned the space. His eyes darted from the young financiers flocking toward a maze of couches by a flickering fireplace to the black lacquered tables dotted with a few patrons. He spotted her, huddled into a corner, an exposed gold bulb looming above her head as she nestled a glass of red wine. She had that 'off the clock' look about her like she had been hankering for a drink all afternoon and he sympathised.

Weaving through a few waiters rolling around service carts filled with drinks, he made his way toward the lonesome brunette.

"What's your poison?" he asked, settling in beside her.

"You!" Bonnie's eyes sprang up, a sneer toying with her painted lips. Damon liked the colour, deep red suited her and her yellow dress played magic tricks with her green eyes. She had colour today, he liked that. Somehow it made a wintry New York seem brighter, or maybe he'd spent too many hours thumping his laptop again.

"Fancy running into you here" Damon grinned, motioning for a waiter.

"Careful, I'm packing heat" she placed a hand on her purse and took another giant sip of wine.

"That's a great dress; it really brings out your eyes. Let me buy you a drink" he teased, wetting his lips.

"My mother warned me about talking to strange men in bars" she drawled in protest but her eyes told a different story. Damon had enough dating experience to know the look, to read it and manipulate it. He considered himself somewhat of a _lady whisperer_ , if there was ever such a thing.

"Playing it safe, where's the fun in that?" he scooted closer to her, catching a whiff of her perfume, feminine but not too saccharine. She continued with her quick, hefty sips, her eyes never leaving his. When the waiter finally got to their table, Damon ordered a traditional draft beer, German because that was as cultural as he was willing to go.

"And another glass of wine for her" he added, gesturing to Bonnie with his head.

"'94 Argiano Brunello, please." she told the server before draining her glass. They watched as the server assembled their drinks right in front of them before carting off to serve another patron.

"I must apologise for my dreadful behaviour yesterday. I had a terrible Monday at work" he turned back to her once the waiter was out of earshot.

"Didn't we all?" Bonnie scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"A student puked in my class" Damon couldn't help rubbing the back of his neck as he said this, it was his obvious tell and he hoped that she wouldn't pick up on his lie.

"Student?"

"I'm a teacher over at PS23" he lied with a straight face. Damon, you're going down Broadway to hell, he thought as he smiled at her.

"Wow, a teacher" her eyes widened, "that's refreshing"

"It's got its hurdles but I love it, "he paused, taking his beer from the waiter. He took a long pull from it, watched as she tackled her fresh glass and then quickly added, "But I love the kids"

"Wow, and here I thought you were just a number's guy with a nose for bad politics"

"Bad politics?" he raised an eyebrow, studying the way her mouth moved as she spoke.

"Sorry, you clearly have a thing for Democrats and I shouldn't hold it against you" Bonnie shrugged her shoulders, staring down into her drink.

"And you have a hard on for Republicans?" he asked, his blue eyes chasing her hand as she brushed a stray hair behind her ear. Bonnie paused, eyes narrowed as if she were trying to decipher the intricate workings of his vey male, very Democratic brain.

"I wouldn't use _those_ words exactly" she said, tight lipped. Damn, she was stiff, right down to her prim dress and black coffee at Starbucks. Damon's lips twitched, an amused smile forming across his face.

"What do you do?" he asked her, taking another swig from his draft.

"I work in politics"

"That's pretty broad, as a what, tea-lady or campaign manager?"

"I'm a writer"

"Really, I like reading" he simpered, "So, you write about politics like a column on the New Yorker?"

"Not quite, I'm more behind the scenes"

"Really, like-"

"I'm a speech writer"

"For anyone I know or do you freelance?"

"I work for the governor of New York"

"That's pretty impressive, what an awesome job"

"It's not a job, it's a career" she corrected him rather quickly.

"What made you get into that?" he chose to ignore her icy glare, pushing on with the interrogation.

"Is this an interview? Cause it feels like an interview"

"Hardly, we have career days all the time at the school so I find stories about how people discovered their careers to be stimulating" he rolled the word _stimulating_ on his tongue and watched her shift around in her seat.

"I fell in love with some old speech by JFK and found couldn't get the idea out of my head" she finally offered, darting her eyes away from his.

"The idea to become a Republican?"

"The idea of being a political speech writer"

"But you're a Republican"

"What does me being a Republican have anything to do with writing?"

"Well, your entire theory is flawed since you've sited Arthur Schlesinger Jr. as your hero; you don't get any more democratic than Schlesinger" he said "the man was JFK's damn speech writer!"

"I never said that Arthur Schlesinger Jr. was my hero, I simply said I liked JFK's speeches"

"Which were written by Arthur Schlesinger Jr." he corrected her, a smug smile erupting on his face.

"How do you know about Arthur Schlesinger Jr. anyway?" she asked, doing that thing with her eyes again.

"I read."

"You're a lunatic"

"There are only two points I tell a Republican in order to win my argument, Nixon and Watergate "he grinned broadly, his eyes lighting up "That usually shuts them up"

"You're an idiot."

"Need I remind you that Klaus Mikaelson was named sexiest man in New York by the Post?"

"The staff at the paper were obviously drunk that day" she scoffed, summoning the waiter for another round.

"There you go doing that thing where you blurt out the first thing that you're thinking. It's cute." He smiled.

"This must be the Brunello talking. Tuscan wines are quite chatty under the right circumstances." She returned his smile and Damon noticed the sparkle in her hazel eyes.

"You have the most incredible eyes." He told her, leaning closer and closing the gap between them.

"And you're full of horseshit."


	3. Chapter 3

She flagged down a passing waiter and ordered Bourbon cake, hoping it would match the one she had once at the Blackbird in Chicago. She couldn't figure out while she was still here, seated so close to this Damon guy and not at home watching reruns of Friends and gawking at Joey, whom she'd have to admit she would never date but he was still nice to look at. She was on her third glass of wine and her muscles were telling. It was a nice floating sensation married with the swimming feeling of her head. She liked this feeling, this tipsiness and laziness of her wine-spent limbs.

"Another one?" Damon gestured to their empty glasses, raking a hand through his hair. Somehow that jolted her back to the present and this teacher who didn't quite act like a teacher.

"I don't know it's a school night" she said, poking the cake with a fork.

"You know what you are?" he grinned, letting his fingers slip from the mouth of his bottle to the neck.

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"You're impervious."

"Impervious?" she raised her eyes to his and cocked an eyebrow.

"Incapable of being penetrated."

"I know what it means. That's a big word." She replied, trying not to smile.

Slipping his gaze from her eyes to her lips, he said "I have a big vocabulary."

"Bigger is not necessarily better." She told him, her tongue darting forth to lick her bottom lip. It was an act which promised to undo him but he managed to hold it together.

"I don't know about you but I've always been under the assumption that bigger is always better. Size counts or so I hear." He said, his voice low and husky.

Bonnie opened her mouth to say something but promptly closed it around a forkful of cake. She could feel a blush crawling up her neck to the sides of her cheeks. Every instinct in her told her to gather her things, leave some money on the table and run, run back to the safe confines of her apartment and work on Alaric's speech for Education reform.

"Come on, I know a great bar in the East Village, it has way more action than this yuppie dump" Damon coaxed and for once, she pondered his suggestion. It had been a very long day and she was sick of the piano bars dotting Wall Street with their small tapas and expensive wine.

"Humor me." He pushed, leaning forward in his seat and allowing her to catch a whiff of his cologne, "You can blame it on the Brunello."

She took a shaving of cake, smooth Bourbon flavours melting into her wine soaked mouth and licked her lips. She chewed thoughtfully and let his suggestion linger a moment longer.

"Sure, why not" Bonnie smiled, turning to look at him "the night is still young"

..

This was not her typical Wednesday night. She did not pick up strange men in bars, she did not drink over two glasses of wine unless it was within the confines of her home and she certainly did not gorge down on sloppy corned beef rolls jammed with caramelized onion rings at one in the morning while standing in front of a late night food truck. She closed her eyes and savored the taste, wondering how something that looked so filthy could taste so good.

"This tastes so darn good," she moaned, licking a dab of mayo and tomato sauce off her fingers.

"So, what is it like working for the Saltzman administration?" Damon asked, raising his eyebrows. He lifted his sandwich to his mouth and took an anxious bite.

"Can we not talk shop?" She gestured to her roll, speaking with a mouthful and shaking her head.

"Please, indulge me" he mumbled, swallowing between mouthfuls of pastrami.

"The hours are long and gruelling but I wouldn't trade my job for all the tea in China"

"And what about the man, does he like his turkey on rye, his eggs over easy?" He shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You want to know more about Alaric Saltzman?" Bonnie ran her tongue over her lips then took another hefty bite. She didn't care that the sauce was dripping down her chin, coating her fingers and sinking into her fresh manicure. This was possibly the best damn corned beef roll in all of New York. With a heavy sigh, she pursed her lips and stomped her feet to shake the snow off her black pumps. As much as she loved her job and if truth be told that's all she lived for but she had no desire to discuss the inner workings of Saltzman's office at one in the morning with a teacher from PS23.

"Two minutes between this traffic light and that dry cleaning shop around the corner, "she told him, taking another quick bite "That's your window"

"I hear he's blocking a new gun control proposal "Damon followed her gaze to the dry cleaning shop she was referencing and hummed into his sandwich, shutting his eyes momentarily.

"And rightly so, we do have the right to bear arms" she replied, giving him a sidelong glance. She didn't know where he was going with this but a debate after several glasses of wine was not something she wanted to engage in.

"Right, because the more guns we have, the better we deter crime" he scoffed, chewing the last morsel of his club sandwich before scrunching up the paper and tossing it in a trash can.

"Talk about gun control to the rape victim jogging along Central Park who couldn't defend herself," Bonnie snapped, disregarding the last of her sandwich. She tossed it into the same trash can, her eyes never living his," talk about gun control to the family of five who lost their lives because some thug chose to break into their house" she shook her head as she wiped her hands then hurled the dirty napkin with the rest of the garbage.

"How about we talk about the six year old boy from Chicago who died after he accidentally shot himself?" Damon raised an eyebrow, drawing closer to her and closing the small space between them.

"Guns don't kill people, people kill people" Bonnie said, spread fingers raking through her hair.

"So what, blame mommy and daddy for keeping a gun in the house?" he shook his head wildly, stepping back away from her.

"Your window just closed" she tilted her head up, thrust her chin then turned back toward the street, her head was swimming.

"Okay okay, last question?"

"What?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Is he dating anyone?"

"He's married."

"You're not answering my question."

"No comment"

"Oh come on, don't give me that standard response you give to that wet behind the ears press guy fresh off the bus from hillbilly"

"Why are you interested in Alaric Saltzman's love life?" she cocked her head, mouth set in a stern line.

"I'm interested in everyone's love life" he replied with an easy smile.

"Really? Mine included?"

"Yours?" his eyes widened at her question, she'd obviously caught him off guard. Bonnie wasn't even sure why she had asked the question but she quickly regretted it. Stepping back, she shoved her hands in her coat and took a steadying breath.

"Never mind." she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she marched forward. She could feel his eyes on her ass and prayed that her motor skills wouldn't fail her.

..

Damon never took women out to dinner because he knew and like every other red blooded American male knew, tables were a physical barrier. They were too restricting; there was no casual brush of her hair away from her face, no knee accidentally grazing against another knee and definitely no hip to hip bump. Dinner dates were in truth as archaic as dinosaurs. In his college days he had perfected the art of the club date, all that grinding and sweating never failed to plant a seed in the minds of the females he took out but now at twenty eight, he didn't dwell much in that scene.

What he did now was East Village, ah the glorious treasure of the East Village with its bohemian beer halls where one could never find a table among the smoke cloaked joint. They had already been to a basement dive bar with amazing graffiti walls and tattooed artistic types crawling all over the dusty space and now he was leading her out of another bar. The whole point of this exercise was to move their dates to multiple locations in one night in order to build familiarity, Damon had to make her feel comfortable enough for her to start opening up to him.

He watched as she walked away from him, her shoes violently striking the icy pavement like a three year old that'd been denied ice-cream. He had two options here, take the bait and ask her about her love life which meant that he'd be playing her game or redirect the evening in favor of his game. He chose the latter.

"Hey, it's been a long night and as stimulating as our political conversation has been I have an early morning, "he said, checking his watch "you know, school and all" he finished with a casual shrug of his shoulder.

"Right,PS23" Bonnie clutched her purse tighter to her chest, her eyes darting off to the army of yellow cabs crawling around East Village like ants.

"I stay around the corner," Damon quickly offered, "If you wanna grab a drink for the road…or coffee, perhaps?"

"Of Course you stay around here and of course you would invite me back to your place" she chuckled and she shook her head, rolling her shoulders to shake off her nerves.

"Hey, it's not a contract. It's simply a glass of wine at my place while you wait for a cab" his eyes were immediately on her, jaw bulking at her accusation.

"This is New York, there are taxis crawling all over the place" Bonnie said coolly as she crept nearer to the street and the rush of traffic. She looked pink, flushed, tipsy and flustered. A pang of worry crept up his spine when he saw the state she was in; he was after all still human underneath all that hair gel.

"Great, it was just a thought, "Damon said, turning away from her, his eyes darting to the thrift shop behind her" Come on; let's rustle you up a cab" he was about to thrust him arm up to hail down a cab when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe, one glass wouldn't hurt" she said, lower lip strangled between her teeth as the loneliness in her hazel eyes ripped through him. Damon smiled with a nod then joined her for a short stroll back to his apartment.

They stumbled into his apartment, debating some issue about social reform which had somehow managed to centre on the hobos in the city.

"How did we get from discussing civil rights to arguing about a crazy subway hobo spouting Nazi propaganda?" Damon asked, kicking the door closed. He swiftly shrugged off his coat, tossed it on a nearby couch and undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

"All I know is that I need a big shot of scotch before we get to musing about Darwin" she slurred, tackling the buttons on the front of her cocoon coat. Damon came to her rescue, unbuttoning her black coat as she swayed, dizzy from her sublime intoxication. Bonnie licked her lips then pressed them firmly together; her eyes were trained to his hands and straining to concentrate.

"I have beer, it's very good" Damon said, taking her coat and tossing it on the edge of the couch "It's German"

"Beer?" she repeated, screwing her eyes up at him.

"You really need to stop leaving your life like its groundhog day, live a little" he laughed, motioning her to the couch with his head.

"Nice place, "she said as her eyes flitted around the space, "you play?" Bonnie gestured to a pair of conga drums hugging a corner scattered with books, some stacked inside an unused fire place.

"Three o'clock every Saturday morning, "he said, opening his refrigerator, "I'm usually sloshed and the neighbours always give me a standing ovation" he added, tossing her a can of beer.

"Thanks" she said, catching the beer.

"Great hands, should've told you to go long"

"Hut hut, "she mocked, struggling to open the beer.

"You have no idea how incredibly sexy that sounds, "Damon admitted, crossing the floor toward her.

"You need some help with that, Miss Quarterback?" He gestured to the can as she attempted to open it with her perfectly manicured nails.

"I got it," she smiled, tilting her head back to look at him dead in his eyes. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips before she lifted the can, taking a sip.

"You have a very nice smile. Have I mentioned that before?" He smiled a sinfully sexy smile.

"Several times." She blushed and looked down at the drink in her hand before sinking into the couch.

"So what's it like, being a teacher?" she asked, shaking her head to shake off the thoughts she was suddenly having about him.

"Fantastic," Damon grinned, slumping on the sofa next to her "I feel like I'm imparting something to society, you know"

"The children are our future and all that" he drawled as he took another pull from his beer.

"Great M.J quote" Bonnie slurred, cheek pasted against the sofa before her head dropped to his shoulder. Damon sat there for a moment, listening as she breathed with her head pillowed on his shoulder. He turned to look at her and lowered his head so he could rest his chin on top of her head. This was ridiculous, he thought even though his body was savouring the feelings the warmth of her body evoked in him. He tried not to smile as he stole another glimpse at her.

Finally he moved, set his beer down on the coffee table and hooked his arm under her knees as he scooped her up from the couch.

"Come on Rambo, let's get you to bed" Damon chuckled and slowly carried her into his bedroom, setting her down on his bed. He leaned over her and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Straightening back up, he fought the parental urge to kiss her forehead as her lips formed a faint smile. He blamed the liquor for this strange spell that suddenly took over his body.

..

When Bonnie pried her eyes open, she noticed two things, dim light streaming from wooden blinds and the smell of dirty, crusty socks. What really made her head jerk up from the pillow though was the huge Knicks poster on the back of the bedroom door. For a moment she thought she had done a time warp through a time machine and was actually in the bedroom of her old high school boyfriend. The expensive purse on the nightstand told her otherwise, so did the sealed pack of latex condoms. The coffee mug on the nightstand looked like it had been camping there for a while. It was probably a post-morning sex mug from days ago judging by the pink lipstick stain on the rim.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes felt puffy and heavy and her dress smelled like day old sweat laced with beer. Oh this was bad, she thought as she clutched her head. This was never part of the plan. Padding toward the door, she stumbled on a pair of sneakers on the floor and straightened back up. When she finally left the bedroom, she surveyed the lounge and the sofa with a rumpled blanket.

"Hello" Bonnie called, a shiver creeping up her spine.

"Hey, Rambo" Damon greeted, slipping into a tan duffle coat as he advanced toward her, "You want some bagels?"

"I want a shower" she mumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"That would be that door" he pointed while he scooped up his leather satchel from the couch next to her.

"Uhm…what time is it?" she asked, turning back to face him.

"Time for me to leave, I'm running late" he was loud, energetic and he was giving her a headache.

"If you change your mind about the grub, I have some bagels and left over Chinese in the fridge. Just leave the key under the mat on your way out" he said over his shoulder, bounding for the door "I'll call you, "he yelled and slammed the door shut.

Bonnie watched the door incredulously; her mind still foggy and then gradually, she dragged herself to the shower. Looking suspiciously at a pull-up bar mounted over the bathroom's doorframe, she entered his bathroom and looked down at a pile of dirty clothes holding one corner of the room and the wet towel on the floor. Bonnie stepped over the towel and peeled back a clear shower curtain dotted with pink flamingos.

Quickly, she peeled out of last night's dress and stepped into the shower, starting the water. Standing under the showerhead, she shivered from the cold and waited for a gush of luke-warm water to stream over her head and down her back. When she finally stepped out of the shower, she jumped over the wet towel on the floor and slid back into her dress. She might not have had a toothbrush but she could still rinse her mouth out with some toothpaste and water. She stood over his vanity and stared at the large dried chunks of toothpaste on his basin. She found toothpaste, rinsed out her mouth and left the filth that was his bathroom.

She was tempted to snoop through his stuff and as she shrugged back into her coat, she trailed a finger over the spines of books lining an old bookshelf and opened drawers in his kitchen. If she found something obscene then it might help her walk away before she became too attached to the teacher. The sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the apartment made her freeze momentarily and she decided to abandon her investigation for another day.

Another day, she scoffed as she locked his apartment leaving his key under the mat.

Would there even be another date?

..

The icy glitter of the city welcomed him as he exited his apartment building. He passed by parked cars lining the street, snow covering them and making them look like they hadn't moved since Thanksgiving. He had to walk down a few blocks before he could hail a taxi but he used the time to buy a cup of coffee from a Bodega on the way. When he popped the lid he discovered that the coffee was scalding hot, probably to mask the stale and watery taste. Damon took a hesitant sip, grimaced and tried again but he couldn't do it.

By the time he'd tossed the coffee in a nearby trash can, a taxi was hurling down the street in his direction. He lifted up his mittened hand and stopped it.

..

"Matt, I'd like you to arrange a delivery for me" Damon announced, legs propped on his desk with the right leg over the left one.

"Who'd you screw over now?" his research assistant asked, not missing a beat.

"We're sending a bouquet of red roses to Bonnie Bennett, wait make that white roses…or maybe pink" Damon narrowed his eyes, tapping his pencil against the desk.

"Your indecisiveness is what I live for" Matt replied monotonously.

"Scratch that; make it a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils" Damon said, suddenly rocking forward with his elbows resting on the bare wood of his desk.

"Seriously, you're pulling that 'You've _got mail'_ stunt?"

Waving his argument away with his hand, Damon asked "Hey, your wife is a republican, right?"

"Yes, Anna is a republican"

"Fantastic and it works this thing of yours?"

"Yes, our _marriage_ works" Matt narrowed his blue eyes, "Why?"

"Never mind, off you go" Damon flapped his hand then pivoted the chair back to watch a snowy Wall Street through his window.

Matt lurked by the door mulling something over and then he asked, "You do realize that I'm not your fetch flowers type of assistant right? I assist in research pertaining to the campaign."

"I'm not asking you to fetch flowers Matt, just asking you to order pencils and arrange a delivery for Miss Bennett"

"I love my job. I love my job. I love my job." Matt chanted as he walked down the corridor.

..

"Bonnie, you have a delivery" Caroline popped her head through the door, a thrilled smile on her face. Propping her head with her right hand, Bonnie emitted a deep groan before she slammed her forehead against the desk. She had arrived torridly late for work and she was still having heart palpitations from all the running around, not to mention the recurring nightmares about Damon's filthy bathroom.

"It's a bunch of pencils," Caroline said holding them up, "and I don't get it" she handed Bonnie an envelope. Slowly, Bonnie pulled the card out of the tiny envelope and read the little note, " _Have dinner with me."_

"He's trying to pull a Tom Hanks, of course he's a little too late if he's trying to reference the beginning of fall." she told Caroline absentmindedly as she pondered this idea of a dinner with Damon. Her head was pounding and she could hardly stomach a morsel of bread, let alone an entire bottle of wine in some restaurant with crisp white napkins.

"Sleepless in Seattle?"

"What?" Bonnie shook herself awake, eyes springing up at Phoebe.

"You said he was pulling a Tom Hanks. I'm assuming its romantic move from one of his movies. The film, is it Sleepless in Seattle?" Caroline's eyes lit up like a puppy begging for a treat.

"No, the other one"

"Forrest Gump?"

"No."

"What's eating Gilbert Grape?"

"That's Johnny Depp."

"You've bee overdosing on Netflix again, haven't you?"

"Guilty as charged"

"And yet you refuse to let me set you up"

"I don't need a hook up" Bonnie motioned to the sharpened pencils, "case in point, exhibit A"

"Yes because every girl in Manhattan wants to date a man who sends her pencils" Caroline shook her head and clicked her tongue.

"Who is this guy anyway?" she asked as she sorted through a stack of papers to file inside a folder.

"Some teacher I met. He's not important"

"Clearly" Caroline her eyes and strolled toward the door, "you thinking of seeing him again?"

"Undecided." Bonnie sighed, leaned back in her high backed chair and closed her eyes.

..

"You're playing her like a violin, aren't you?"

Damon lifted his eyebrows, lips pressed together as he eyed Matt who was propped up against the wall of his cubicle, one hand smoothing down the front of his striped green tie while the other held up a mug of steaming coffee.

"Bonnie Bennett" he explained when his statement failed to register with Damon. Swinging away from his laptop screen, Damon expelled a breath and leaned against his chair. He pondered Matt's accussation before giving him his response.

"However do you mean?" an innocent smile teased the corners of his lips as he picked up a strapler, twirling a it in his right hand.

"I can't fathom why this smart, beautiful woman would agree to ever go on a date with you" Matt frowned.

"I'm like death and taxes my friend, unavoidable" Damon chuckled, swiping a hand through his hair.

Matt scoffed and rolled his blue eyes before taking a hefty sip from his coffee mug, "Hey, you wanna play quidditch this weekend?" he asked, glancing up at Damon.

"Come again?"

"Quidditch, it's sort of like lacrosse" Matt explained, shaking his head while Damon stared blankly at him, "you know, Harry Potter…quidditch…"

"Hey, take your sick hobby somewhere else, Dumbledork" Damon reclined back against his chair, propping both legs on the desk, "Besides, I gotta keep my weekend open for the Knicks game and a date with Bonnie"

"You really think that Bonnie Bennett will call you?"

"I don't think, I know" he mocked, diving back into the article he was writing for Klaus's speech on the unions.

"Hey, "Camille popped her head through the door, knuckles rapping against the grey felt, "Can we talk?" she paused, eyes darting from Damon to Matt then back to Damon.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked.

"Nope, Narcissus is all yours" Matt stepped out of the cubicle, "or do you go by the name Hades these days?" he rolled his eyes as Damon threw a rumpled ball of paper at him.

"And what can I do for you, gorgeous?" he turned to Camille after Matt had disappeared out into the hallway. His eyes travelled down the blonde's form, lingering on her hips. He liked the way the green dress showed off her curves and thinking about her body brought back memories.

"As you know I'll be out of town for the weekend" she began, chewing her lower lip as she approached his messy desk.

"Upstate?" he raised an eyebrow, wetting his lips.

"Yeah and I need a favor" her voice softened and Damon groaned. She knew just how to get to him with her innocent feminine wiles. A little flutter of her eyelashes and a flicker of her blonde hair always left him panting.

"Favor-my least favorite word in the English dictionary" he teased as she perched on the desk right in front of him.

"I need to you to walk Kelly while I'm gone"

"Get a dog-walker, Manhattan is crawling with them"

"My usual guy is out of down and I don't trust anyone with my Kelly, besides you of course"

"Bullshit, you know your bi-, your dog never liked me"

"Nonsense she loves you. Dalmatians just take time to warm up to certain people"

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to babysit your dog while you go on a romantic weekend?"

"Pretty much" she smiled, tossing her bobbed hair back and letting it fall back over her big blue eyes.

"What do you want to get out of this?" he asked, rapping his nails against his desk. Camille sighed, combing her hair with her fingers but he relented.

"My radiator is fixed" he winked, plucking out a stray tread from her dress.

"Not a chance, Salvatore" she chuckled getting off the desk and heading for the door.

"Besides, you can pick up a lot more women with Kelly's help."

"Is that a fact?" he called, picking up a pencil and gnawing on its crown.

"Tested and proven."

"Just don't forget to bring a poop-baggy" she called from the exit prompting him to look up at her in shock. Then as his face softened, he shook his head with a chuckle and redirected his attention to his laptop.

He opened the page he had been googling before Matt's rude interruption and scrolled down the page to view Bonnie's picture again.


	4. Chapter 4

4

..

Reporters piled into the conference centre for Alaric's speech on education reform and Bonnie spotted Katherine in the front seat, recorder ready as she chewed on her pencil. Pursing her lips together, she adjusted her side button navy dress and waved at Katherine when the reporter looked up.

It was going to be a long conference, she could tell and the only thing she could think about was Damon Salvatore. She had ended up calling him and after finding out that they both had front row tickets to the Knicks, suggested that they seat together at the game and have dinner at Daniels in Park Avenue after. This of course ended up being a debate about social classes and the discrepancy between the rich and the poor until he added something about hunger in Somalia. Bonnie finally agreed to dinner at some less expensive place in Lower Manhattan.

..

"It's not a date Kat, it's a semi-date…a casual date" Bonnie sighed, plucking out a bottle of merlot from her wine rack in the kitchen.

"Is that why you spent the past hour shaving off every inch of hair on your body?" Katherine rifled through the cabinets and pulled out a pair of wine glasses.

"I still need to look good." she shrugged as she worked the cork out of the bottle.

"I call bullshit" Kat laughed, setting the glasses on the island for Bonnie to pour the wine.

She hesitated, looking up at Katherine before she huffed, "Are you gonna help or what?"

"Ok. What do you need?"

"I need you to help me select an outfit that says _hi, I'm sexy_ "she spelled out, pouring hefty helpings of red wine into both glasses.

"From your closet? You got to be kidding me" Katherine exclaimed as she picked up her glass for a sip. She followed Bonnie into her bedroom, white, clean and organized just like its occupant.

"How about a little enthusiasm?" Bonnie said over her shoulder as she opened her white wood closet.

"How about we keep it real?" Kat teased, "Your closet shouts hi, _I'm a dull, uptight bitch_ " she expanded as she skimmed her fingers over the white cashmere coats and tan dresses, "Do you even own any color?"

"That would be my summer wardrobe. I prefer to store those up until spring because well they-"

"And that's your problem. You think too much" Kat rolled her eyes, "Too much thinking is not sexy"

"You were never one for women's liberation were you?" Bonnie quipped, taking in the black leather pants, vest and three studded belts wrapped around Kat's hips.

"Sweetie, I own feminism but being sexy is a feeling, an allure you project and its all about the senses" she ran a hand through her dark hair, "To attract a man, you gotta entice his senses. Sight, taste, smell, sound and touch"

"Right" Bonnie mocked, taking a tidy sip from her glass and letting the wine sit on her tongue before she swallowed.

"So, since we've solved the touch issue with your razor blade, lets move on to sight. You got anything red and tight in your closet?"

"Katherine I'm going to a Knicks game…and maybe dinner later"

"So what?"

"I was thinking a good pair of jeans, sneakers and my Ralph Lauren sweater."

"This is not child's play, Bonnie. If you want this man to fall at your feet then you need to listen to me" she insisted as she walked back toward the couch to ruffle through her bag.

"What are doing?"

"Luckily, I came prepared" she plucked out a slinky red dress and held it against her chest but Bonnie's eyes widened when she saw that it barely made it past Katherine's knees.

"You do realize that barely covers your see-you-next-Tuesday and I'll be sitting front row with a dozen cameras in front of me. I don't think I'm ready for a Britney Spears moment"

"Bonnie, remember that less is more. Get your ass in this tiny thing while I refill our glasses"

"So what's his story anyway?" Kat yelled over her shoulder as she picked out fresh wine glasses from Bonnie's cabinet.

"Who?" she called from the bedroom.

"Damon. Is he yummy as fuck?"

"Shouldn't you be sticking to Enzo?"

"A girl is allowed to look, it's a free world"

"Are you serious about Enzo?" Bonnie's voice softened as she framed the doorway, hands pressing down the front of the short silk dress. She felt completely exposed, as though mere breath could blow the whisper of a dress from her body.

"Hi I'm Katherine Pierce, have we met?" Kat smiled taking another sip of wine while she looked at Bonnie over the rim of her glass "I've never been serious about any guy and I'm not about to start now"

"Good to know some things don't change."

"Enough about my sex life, will you look at you in that naked dress!"

"You're killing it mama!"

"You think?" Bonnie knotted her brows, trying to catch her reflection on the hallway mirror.

"You're gonna have this man eating out of the palm of your hand."

..

It hadn't dawned on him until he was pacing outside Seven Bistro in the freezing cold; it was Valentine's Day weekend and he had a date with Bonnie Bennett. Firstly, Damon did not believe in dinner dates and secondly he was strongly opposed to any Valentine's Day celebrations past a casual, cheap bottle of champagne consumed at one a.m. after a round of hot sex. Now, here he was waiting for a girl outside an actual restaurant and she was running late. Cupping his gloved hands over his mouth, he blew hot breath into them and rubbed them together. It was freezing, he was tired after a long day of fruitless writing and the irritation was evident when he rolled his shoulders.

What if she was standing him up? He shuddered at the possibility, the horror of her actually standing him up. Damon told himself that he wouldn't care, he'd head to the nearest sports bar and have a beer or two before the game and all would be right with his world again.

He dipped his head to avoid a mass of red balloons carried by a strolling couple and checked his watch again. He didn't want to call her, the last text she had replied to was thirty minutes ago and calling her again would seem desperate. It was a good thing he changed their date from Park Avenue to Lower Manhattan. He still couldn't believe that she was a Knick's fan. What were the odds of her having courtside tickets to the Knick's game, the same night he had courtside tickets. Damon was impressed and the realization hit him about three hours ago when he'd taken an entire hour debating if he should wear his Woodstock tee-shirt or his red plaid shirt. He had finally settled on a grey V-neck sweater, thick grey scarf and grey oversized coat. Raking a hand through his dishevelled hair, he glanced behind him at the lit restaurant with diners huddled together and scoffed. Deciding to give up on her, he shoved both hands into his pockets and stepped deeper into the sidewalk.

"Damon!"

When he heard her voice, he pivoted around and what he saw set his pulse scrambling. She was all leg and hair in the midst of a congested sidewalk and the sight of her stole his breath for a moment. He didn't care that the red of her dress screamed Valentines because the cut of it made him howl into the night. When his eyes coasted down her body, Bonnie crossed her arms across her chest to close her white cashmere coat and smiled.

"I'm sorry I'm late" she said after taking a deep breath.

"Right now, I'd forgive you for anything" he heard the break in his voice and cleared his throat. When an icy breeze ruffled her hair, it took all his restraint not to reach out and tuck a lock behind her ear.

"Well are you just gonna stare at me the whole night or are you gonna feed a girl?"

"Shall we?" he smiled, ushering her inside Seven Bistro with his hand firmly on her lower back.

He felt awkward sitting across from her as they busied themselves by thumbing through the fancy menus. Tossing his menu aside, he picked up his bottle of German beer and let his eyes sweep over her again. She looked fantastic with her sparkling hazel eyes and flushed pink cheeks. Damon cleared his throat again before taking a pull from his beer.

"Did you like the pencils?" he asked, his eyes lingering on the throbbing vein on her neck. She had been breathing hard and fast since they sat down at their table. He assumed that it was her nerves.

"I loved them. Thank you" she glanced up and smiled politely at him.

"When was the last time you went on a date?" he asked, a smile stretching his lips.

"Counting Manhattan's overpriced coffee dates?" she grinned before taking a sip from her red wine," Three weeks ago."

"How did it go?"

"He thought I wasn't spiritually evolved enough for him" she shrugged, "How about you?"

"My last date?"

"Yes"

"A year ago. I met her at some singles volunteering thing in Brooklyn."

"Singles volunteering?"

"It's a website that sets up volunteering events for singles like helping out at soup kitchens or handing out blankets to the homeless in the subway…"

"How noble of you"

"Ha! Anyway, we met and I decided that she was special enough to actually engage over a bottle of wine and a meal"

"Oh yes because you're too spiritually evolved to date. You only do hook-ups"

"Precisely" he gave her a lopsided grin.

"So, what happened?" her eyes bore into his as she looked at him over the rim of her wine glass.

"She left New York."

"Sacrilegious! Unfathomable! " Bonnie mock-screamed and slammed the table with her palms, "who leaves New York?"

"Exactly and where do they go?" he played along making exaggerated movements with his hands before picking up his beer again.

"There is no world outside New York" Bonnie chuckled shaking her head.

"New York _is_ the world" he affirmed, raising his drink with a wink. They both laughed before easing down into easy chuckles.

"She moved so she could work as a volunteer in Afghanistan" Damon said softly breaking their comfortable silence.

"Wow, now I really feel like an asshole"

"You should" he teased, one corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. The waiter's voice managed to jolt them back into the room and they tore their gaze away from each other. He ordered a grilled steak with red onions and a salad and she ordered a smoked salmon with a baby spinach salad.

"And you haven't really dated since?"

"No, "Damon shook his head. The sloppy breakfasts in bed with Camille didn't count as dating, in fact he couldn't even remember sitting across Camille at a restaurant, let alone a kitchen table in her apartment. They were never that serious because she was always waiting for something and he was always running away from something.

"There are economics to dating" he said, "we all have perceived worth about potential dates"

"And what's my perceived worth?" she asked, leaning back into her chair.

"My time"

"Excuse me?"

"The cost of something is what you give to get it" he offered with a shrug of his shoulder, "and since my time is valuable to me, I would perceive you to be quite valuable"

"Lucky me" Bonnie snorted, rolling her eyes, "Aren't you gonna ask me how I perceive you, how I rate you?"

They paused to allow the waiter to place their food in front of them, fresh drinks included.

After the server left, Damon leaned across the table and flashed a big smile, "No need. I know your type. You're an elitist Harvard snob who puts value on a college degree and pedigree. I know your ideal man and the problem with your ideal man is that he's a high demand product. You see you will always be shopping around a seller's market as long as you shop for that type of guy"

"You suggesting I lower my standards?" she raised her eyebrow, stabbing a portion of fish with her fork.

"I'm suggesting you re-examine your deal breakers, miss Bennett"

"I agreed to go out on a date with you, didn't I?"

"Touché" Damon chuckled, forking a few leaves into his mouth.

"I guess this would mean that I'm slumming it on a buyer's market then?" Bonnie smiled sheepishly, toying with her food before taking in a forkful.

"What grade do you teach?" she caressed the stem of her glass with her fingers, tongue wetting her bottom lip.

He took a sip of his drink before speaking "Uhm… five."

"That's a good age."

"Oh yeah? You like kids?"

"Now how does one answer that? If I say no it'll make me look worse than the witch in Hansel and Gretel and if I say yes, you'll hear the loud ticking of my biological clock. Either way I'm shooting myself in the foot."

"I personally like the witch in Hansel and Gretel. "He smirked.

"How do you feel about clocks?"

"As long as it's not Tick-Tock the crocodile"

She laughed, soft and feminine. "You really are a fifth grade teacher."

"Where are you from or is that a hot button?" She took another sip of wine in an attempt to regulate her breathing.

"I was born and raised in New York."

"Let me guess, all-star basketball player, upper middle glass background, hmm…but daddy couldn't buy you a way into Harvard so you had to resort to teaching."

"You think I'm Harvard material?"

"You're right; you're more Brown material. Daddy couldn't buy you a way into Brown."

"Did your parents buy your way into college?"

"No."

He smiled, leaned back against his chair and accessed her, "Let me guess, divorced parents, two dogs, a younger brother, you ran the school's newspaper, debate team, English teacher's pet and uh…upper middle class background."

"My parents are still married."

"Happily?"

"Happily." She nodded

"You sure?"

"They still have sex."

"Did not need that mental image."

She laughed again and the throaty sound of her laugh warmed his insides.

"So you grew up in a Nuclear family?" Damon raised his eyebrows.

"You make it sound like I was being raised by terrorists."

"Aren't all parents extremist of some sort?" he smiled, then raised a hand "Can we strike that from the record?"

"Sorry but it's already out there. You cannot take it back" she laughed, tossing a napkin at him.

Their eyes held before she said, "I'm sorry about I said earlier."

"What was that?"

Her voice lowered to a husky pitch, "That you had to resort to teaching. I'm sure it's something you've wanted to do your whole life."

"You're forgiven."

..

Later, they sat courtside watching the game with her coat draped over her shoulders. She was surprised by the fact that she was enjoying herself. Being with Damon didn't feel forced or animated like the rest of the dates she had been on with typical Manhattan men.

She wasn't sure if he planned to lay on the charm after several drinks at his apartment but she wasn't planning to take it that far, at least not tonight. After the game she planned to take a cab and head straight home. After the Knicks won 89-104, Damon suggested drinks in East Village which was close to his apartment. He was as transparent as a shifty politician.

"I stay just around the corner" she said, arms crossed over her chest as they weaved through throngs of people leaving Madison square gardens for celebratory drinks.

"Come on; don't call it a night yet. It's Friday" he coaxed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. That brief touch of his thumb against her skin sent her mind reeling as her skin felt like it had been set alight. She took a sharp breath to compose herself, "How about we troll my neighbourhood tonight then? She breathed, "The Upper East Side"

"East Village has the best bars and I feel like an Irish pub tonight" Damon pouted, "Do you really feel like being in some stuffy piano bar after a game like that?"

"And what do you have in mind exactly, a few shooters and then we head back to your place?"

"If you insist" he teased her, his smile sending shivers down her spine. Bonnie wasn't sure what was happening to her but she knew that she had to get away from him before she did something she would regret, namely sleeping with him too soon.

"Look, I'm kinda tired. It's been a long night" she protested, raking a hand through her thick hair.

"So, close but no cigar?"

"Yup" she nodded, lifting her arm to hail down a cab.

"I can't twist your arm?"

"Don't you have some papers to grade?" she laughed as a taxi pulled up in front of them. He opened the door for her and watched her as she slid into the back seat.

"Good night, Bonnie"

"Good night, Mr. Salvatore" she smiled as Damon closed the door. When the car started moving, she vowed not to look back. She didn't want to see if he was still standing there watching as her cab drive off and she definitely didn't want to check if he had walked off the minute she got inside the car.

Curiosity got the better of her and she turned around to look if he was still there.

He wasn't.

With a heavy sigh, she rested her head against the seat and scanned the city as the car drove down 42nd street, past the red pulsating heart in Times Square to the lovers strolling hand in hand to mount the carriages around Central Park. Closing her eyes, she smiled to herself. The semi-date had not been too bad; in fact she'd had a fantastic time with Damon Salvatore.

..


End file.
